


Danger In Fiction

by a_nonny_moose



Series: Egotober 2017 [11]
Category: Markiplier Egos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-16
Updated: 2017-10-16
Packaged: 2019-01-18 08:53:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12384915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_nonny_moose/pseuds/a_nonny_moose
Summary: A not-so-friendly reminder that the Host isn't the most friendly of Egos.





	Danger In Fiction

“The human walks through the forest, unsure why they keep putting one foot in front of the other, but unable to stop themselves from proceeding.”  


You were slugging through mud, limbs heavy, eyelids like lead. You didn’t know how long you’d been walking, or even where you were. All you knew, at this point, was the spun-steel voice in your head, urging you forward. You’d long since surrendered yourself to it. 

At first, sure, you’d struggled. Long nights spent trying to block out the voice, droning endlessly. Fighting every action that it forced upon you, but in vain. Eventually, something in you broke. Now, you followed its command willingly. It was the only constant, the only thing tying you to life. 

Lightning flashed overhead, but you didn’t even raise your eyes to look, didn’t even flinch at the thunder. You used to be so afraid of thunder. 

The rain began to pour through the trees, and the back of your shirt grew steadily more damp. Wet, heavy, cold. So cold. 

“The human reaches a clearing, the smell of ozone sharp in the air. A sense of dread hangs over the cabin in front of them, the door cracked open. Without so much as a deep breath, the human walks inside.”  


The door creaked as you opened it, but at least, the inside was dry. You took a few steps inside, looking around, a flicker of curiosity. Of all the things that the voice had commanded you to do, exploring a quiet, shadowed cottage in the middle of a forest was one of the more tame things. 

“The human can feel someone watching them, eyes boring into their back, shadows shifting in the corner of their eye.”  


Well, it was better than being forced to rip out someone’s throat with a rusty pair of garden shears. 

You walked past the entrance hall, eyes straining in the darkness. You could make out the silhouettes of cloth-draped furniture, illuminated by intermittent lightning through grimy windows. Sure enough, you could see movements, just out of focus, too slight to identify. A shiver ran up your spine, a many-limbed insect close against your skin. This wasn’t the worst that the voice had ever done, but it was certainly one of the most unsettling. 

“A rattling comes from deeper within the house, and against their better judgement, the human feels compelled to investigate. They turn their attention to the winding staircase.”  


You looked up at the rickety stairs, sagging, and a familiar resistance tugged you back. Your own voice, hoarse and weak. _Don’t listen to it. Fight. Don’t go upstairs. Fight._  It failed, like it always did. 

You put a foot on the stairs, and the first step groaned under your weight. You reached for the railing, but it was more unsteady than you were. You looked up, seeing the rotting wood, smelling mildew, feeling the splintery railing against your fingers and the weight of a gaze against your back. From above, a rattling like something trapped in a box, clawing to get out.

The stairs, apparently, were more stable than they looked. By the time you got to the top of the stairs, the rattling had stopped, leaving the house silent except for your own creaking steps and the rumble of thunder outside. You looked around, eyes finally adjusting to the darkness upstairs. 

You were alone on a shallow balcony overlooking the ground floor, threadbare carpet over the wood. Several doors lined the wall, some smashed open, some swinging on their hinges, some resolutely shut. As you looked over them, fear starting to bubble in the pit of your stomach, the rattling started again. 

“As the rattling starts again, the human moves forward, eyes on the door at the end of the balcony. They walk inside.”  


Lightning clapped outside, and again, you heard a second voice in your head. _Don’t listen to him. Don’t go in there. Fight._  You stepped forward, hesitating, watching the very last door flutter open and closed like the breathing of the house itself. You really, really didn’t want to go in there. 

“The human walks inside,” the voice said again, prompting, power lining each syllable.   


It pushed you forward, stumbling, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you pushed back. 

“No.” You spoke, voice rusty from disuse, and an air of surprise hung in the air. “I’m not going in there.”

The other voice seemed to chuckle. “The human knows that resistance is futile, and again, they feel compelled to walk into the room.”

You stood your ground, a flicker of fire starting in your chest. Something warm. “Why should I?”

The voice addressed you, more like dialogue than a narration. “Wouldn’t you like to meet the author of your story?”

Lightning flashed outside, dangerously close. Too close. The smell of burning wood hit your nose, setting off alarm bells. 

The awakening came with the feeling of casting off a heavy blanket, the clarity of being pulled out of ice-cold water. Whatever influence had kept your own voice under was lifting, drifting away like fog being burned by the sun. All at once, you could think again. All at once, there was only one voice in your head, and it was yours. 

‘Meet the author,’ huh? Yeah, you’d like to meet him, meet the person that stole your life from you for so long.   


You ran, now, limbs light as air and back under your control, to the last door, and flung it open. “I’m the author of my _own_  goddamn story. Who are _you_?”

There was no response: You had time to see a flash of light, smoke burning your eyes and nose, a half-charred typewriter, a body in flames. 

You had time enough to scream, before everything went up in flames. 

**Author's Note:**

> https://egoiplier-shenanigans.tumblr.com/post/171915917610/danger-in-fiction


End file.
